Night Falls

Sixteen

You guys are either gonna love me or hate me for this one lololol

After that early morning, something changed; for the first time since I had met Scott, we finally seemed to fall into sync with each other. There was no more bickering, no more snide remarks, and the two of us had–dare I say it–become friends.

We finally found our groove amidst all the craziness that our lives had become; Scott would go to work each morning while I did what I could remotely. I usually finished up early, giving me plenty of time to spend time with Jess and Jake during the day. Jess was still bubbly as ever, and the two of us began a mini book club. Every week or so, she would bring me something new to read, and each day we would talk about the few chapters we had read before bed. Jake was still impossible to crack, just as stoic as ever, but I had finally managed to get him to open up when I approached him one day while he sat over a chess board. I had never played chess in my life, and in all honesty, was never overly interested in the game, but I had time to kill.

Turns out, Jake was a master player and had been competing in chess tournaments since he was young. He had actually won enough scholarship money while competing in high school that he attended Columbia without paying a single dollar of tuition.

It literally took all those weeks to get that information out of him (though most of it came from Jess), but at least I knew something about him, and now, I could even consider myself an amateur chess player.

At 6pm every day, Alex would show up, relieving Jess and Jake. The two of us bonded in the kitchen, cooking up dinner each night before Scott would get back from the bureau. I sat around the table every night with the two of them at my side, listening to their stories and getting a sneak peek into the world beyond these faded walls.

But as the weeks went on, I could see the toll this case was taking on Scott; bags began to form under his eyes, and most mornings he left the house unshaved and clothes ruffled. I tried convincing him to trade his shifts, if nothing else just for a few times a week, but he brushed me off, assuring me he was fine. I even convinced Alex to talk to him about it, but Scott wouldn't hear of it.

You're my responsibility. I'm not going anywhere until this case is shut.

Alex and Scott fell back into their usual sleep schedule after that night. Alex would typically head up around 10, leaving Scott and I in the living room together. Sometimes we would watch whatever random shows we could find through the bunny ears, and other times, Scott would bring some movies with him from his apartment when he'd make a stop for clean clothes. They were always westerns, typically Clint Eastwood classics. Most the time, we barely paid attention, usually finding something more interesting to talk about, like the case, or how Scott's younger sister's boyfriend called him a few days ago from a ring shop because he was getting ready to propose to Kirstin.

I knew enough older siblings who had gotten beaten to the altar to know it usually created a selfish bitterness, but that was nowhere to be found on Scott. He spoke so highly of his sister, and couldn't be happier to be growing their family. Kirstin's boyfriend–Jeremy–was an intern at a local children's hospital. Apparently, he was bubbly and kind, and most importantly, knew how to put the Hoying siblings in their places when they needed it.

I got brave that night, figuring the subject was at hand, so it was a perfect time to ask Scott about his personal life; if he was seeing anyone if he wanted to. If he ever wanted more out of life than the FBI.

It took him a while to answer. He smiled the whole time, but I could see him fade away from the conversation.

He told me about Claye, a fiery journalist that he dated his senior year of college. They had met at a party his fraternity had been throwing. He told me had he showed up in an oxford shirt, jeans, and boots, looking totally out of place and extremely bored. He had taken that as a challenge. He had gotten dragged there by a friend, and had zero interest in having cheap beer spilled on him while drunk guys hit on anything that was willing to talk to them. But he had been a good friend, and somehow, he and Scott hit it off.